


Daydreamer

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Character Study, Gen, Mentions of Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Pre-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 08:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Love. That’s Robin’s clutch.She doesn’t have it, at least not her own kind that belongs to her and just her, no one else, but she rationalizes her nerves away, at least tries to. She’s only seventeen and she’s okay with waiting— as okay as she ever can be— because she has to wait.(She knows that someone like her is destined to spend most of their life waiting, if not all of it.  She’s determined to be the exception.)





	Daydreamer

Robin has always been a big daydreamer. She thinks she’s probably been this way forever, rendered a swooning, hopeless romantic ever since she first heard the word “love”— though she can’t remember exactly when that was, but does anyone? (She’s curious, wants to know, wants to ask around and find out if they do. She gets in her feelings and realizes that she’s never really _ not _ in them, and then she thinks about asking her friends and her parents and maybe even stupid Steve at Scoops Ahoy what they think of love. She’s tired of small talk and meaningless conversations that dance around how people really feel and god, she’s so tired of this town. She thinks about running away but there’s no one to run away with, and she won’t do it alone. She wants someone, _ needs _ someone beside her, someone to sit with on the city rooftop with the world buzzing around them while they dive into the deep and the uncomfortable and the dark, scary shit that’s practically uncharted. She dreams of the day when— _ if— _ she becomes so fortunate.)

Love. That’s Robin’s clutch. 

She doesn’t have it, at least not her own kind that belongs to her and just her, no one else, but she rationalizes her nerves away, at least tries to. She’s only seventeen and she’s okay with waiting— as okay as she ever can be— because she _ has _to wait. 

(She knows that someone like her is destined to spend most of their life waiting, if not all of it. She’s determined to be the exception.)

Robin tries to enjoy the suspense. She almost makes a game of it. She’s always had a crystal clear but ever changing fantasy in her mind of a perfect, glorious, world-altering, life changing love. She’s a reluctant sucker for a rom com that’ll make her cry and eat too much sour candy in turn— though she doesn’t like to admit it— and she’ll play the film over and over, even if she wishes that the lead male character were another woman. 

And that’s exactly the problem she’s been sulking with lately— really for her whole life, actually: her love for women and the fear, the hiding, the _ terror _that comes along with it has rendered her just plain useless. 

(She’s determined to be the exception, but she’s not so sure her determination is enough to carry her where she needs to be.) 

Robin isn’t ashamed, but she’s not stupid. She knows Hawkins and the people in it, recognizes the side eyed glares and awkward coughs that Jared Monroe and Christopher West, the only openly gay couple in town, get whenever they go grocery shopping or out to eat. Even when they’re not around, Robin has heard the comments, seen her own father grunt out casual, inconsiderate slurs around a forkful of dinner, especially when the news is on and Robin hears the faint, four letter word echo in from the other room. Her mother stays silent, complicit, unknowing, and Robin sinks further into her seat each time.

She’s not ready to put herself out there. Not like that. Not quite yet.

So she stays daydreaming. She imagines ways to flirt, practices in the mirror sometimes when she’s feeling exceptionally lonely and in need of practice, and she’d be embarrassed if she wasn’t so accustomed to it. She has no idea what she’s doing and she knows it, and she tells herself that’s alright, that it’s just fine, she doesn’t have to know. But a part of her almost considers going on a date with a boy just to practice, just to see what she has bottled up in her in terms of flirting and feeling. She doesn’t do that for a whole list of reasons, the biggest one being that she doesn’t want to garner a reputation of dating men, even if it’s only one boy and she isn’t really dating them. (She figures there has to be at least one other lesbian in Hawkins, and being single for her entire life so far might show more signs of perhaps not being straight— something her grandparents haven’t seemed to catch onto; every Thanksgiving the same question arises: “so, Rob, any boys catching your eye lately?”) 

Also, yeah, of course, leading someone on would be shitty and not in her nature. The last thing she wants to do is hang out with a some jock at a candlelit restaurant, anyways. 

She thinks about the time she made Britney blush at camp when they were in summer camp, acting out _ Romeo and Juliet _and kissing her hand while under the veil of Romeo’s bravado. That was something, right?

Robin dreams of Tammy Thompson, of Heather Holloway, of every girl that she finds pretty— which is really most of them, even prissy Nancy Wheeler. She imagines how she’d act if she ever had the nerve to really put herself out there like she wanted to, unafraid and unabashed. She can’t even fathom what it’d be like to be as confident as Steve, even if she was straight. Being lesbian is one thing, being a woman is a whole other entire battle. Everyone tells her she’s too quiet when she doesn’t speak too snarky when she does, and it’s exhausting. She doesn’t know how to be what people want her to be, and she’s close to giving up on trying. 

Robin keeps dreaming. Of love, sure, but of other things too: of life, of growing, of getting away. She likes to imagine in a few years, once she breaks away from Hawkins and gets a studio apartment in the city and a (reasonably) well paying job, then she can start over. Then she can be brave, fearless, impatient after so many years of waiting, and she can say what she wants to say to the girls she can’t take her eyes off. 

She’d say something classy, she imagines, something suggestive but not too forward, just on the cusp of being considered “cute.” But her eyes would give her away, glinting and daring, and she wouldn’t be afraid.

“Would you like to try Rocky Road, or maybe Robin Road?” 

That’s what she thinks of saying to the cute girl with a blond ponytail who comes in to Scoops on her fourth shift and tries both vanilla and caramel swirl samples. She only speaks the first half of the sentence aloud, and she feels more accomplished than she should when the girl ends up liking that flavor the best and deciding on a chocolate covered waffle cone to go along with it.

That’s it, though, that’s all that happens. She pays and leaves and flashes Robin a small smile, a polite one that’s just the same as every other customer’s, though Robin dwells on it all through the rest of her shift and even into break. 

Nancy Wheeler comes in later when Steve is supposed to be working, but Jonathan Byers is on her arm and so Robin gets thrust out into his place, leaning against the cold metal of the freezer. She doesn’t like Steve much, but she’ll cover for him when Nancy comes in out of the kindness of her heart; she imagines seeing an ex must be awkward, especially when you’ve got as few brain cells as he does. (If his least favorite math teacher comes in, though, the one he’s been complaining about seeing across the lobby in the food court nearly every day visiting her son, she’s going to abandon him in the dust.)

Robin imagines flirting again with Nancy, and god, maybe she’s a mess, maybe she’s a creep, maybe she shouldn’t do any of this (she definitely shouldn’t, Jonathan is looking right at her and ordering a vanilla sundae with chocolate drizzle) but she doesn’t feel guilty, not like she probably should.

It’s all in her head, after all. Roaring romance and spinning scenarios making her giddy, she scoops herself a cup of chocolate chip (she’s too new to be sick of ice cream quite yet) and settles against the counter of the break room, wordlessly notifying Steve that it’s his turn to get back out there. He doesn’t want to even be in the same room as Nancy, though, and honestly, she can’t blame him; she’s a little uptight for Robin’s tastes but god, she’s pretty, and when she pops a cherry into her mouth and sucks on it, Robin drops her spoon, unable to tear her eyes away. 

Steve gives her a look— they don’t know each other well yet and don’t really care to; at least Robin doesn’t. He pushes past the doors and grabs a mop, busying himself with his head down in the corner just out of his ex’s sight.

Robin hears it though, and she’s sure Steve does too, when Nancy lets out a quiet, satisfied moan when she gets an exceptionally fudgy scoop. They’re the only ones in the shop right now, and Robin can’t help but pay attention— and see the way that both Jonathan and Steve’s cheeks redden in response. She’s sure hers do too, and so she slips away to the table, dropping her elbows onto the surface and her head into her hands.

It’s a hard life for a daydreamer.

**Author's Note:**

> This was very self indulgent, as I adore and relate to Robin so much. If you enjoyed, please let me know! Feel free to come say hi or send suggestions in the comments or at my tumblr blog under the same username, sweeterthankarma :)


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